


In a Lonely Place

by rainydog



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Minor Character Death, Mostly Fluff, Other, Pre-Canon, cutter can be nice when he wants things, cutter is afraid of pryce, kepler cant catch a break, lyme disease, maybe canon compliant?, mild graphic description in later chapters, rachel's sass gives me life, the wonder twins - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:34:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23124088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainydog/pseuds/rainydog
Summary: Even though Warren Kepler is confined to Goddard's medical facility, very few things change for him. Rachel Young continually sasses and taunts him. The doctor who is treating him seems nice, but he knows very little about her and she is in no hurry to divulge her secrets. Maxwell and Jacobi are as supportive and loyal as they have ever been. And last, but certainly not least, Marcus Cutter manipulates situations and the people around him so that everything goes exactly the way he wants them to (that is, until almost everything goes horribly wrong).
Relationships: Daniel Jacobi & Alana Maxwell, Daniel Jacobi & Warren Kepler, Marcus Cutter & Rachel Young, Warren Kepler & Alana Maxwell
Kudos: 11





	1. A Touch of Death

Warren Kepler had his office chair turned away from his desk and his eyes closed as he tried to work the stiffness out of his neck, but a knock at his door stopped him. He opened his eyes and a blurry silhouette of a woman appeared as a shadow on the wall, he spun his office around to see Rachel Young standing outside the glass door holding a few files and a plastic water bottle in her arms. He gestured for her to come in and she took a few steps into his office.

“I’ve come to fetch you for the meeting with Mr. Cutter--it’s being moved to the conference room on this floor” she said. A growing soreness in his left knee made him relieved that it was closer.

“Why’s that?” Warren asked, stalling to give himself time to stand up without hurting his knee. If it weren’t for the meeting, he would have left work two hours ago and hoped that he would not crash his car on the way back to his apartment.

“I think he’s hiding from Pryce.” she waited a moment, “Well, are you coming or not?” she pressed. Kepler was thanking God that he’d taken an aspirin because it was the only thing that was allowing him to deal with Rachel without having an aneurysm. He put both his hands on the arms of his chair and pushed himself up. Rachel took note of Kepler’s tired and pale face, and the bit of sweat on his hairline. “Aw, poor Warren, got a cold?” she jeered. He ignored this and grabbed the folder off the corner of the desk, she started moving out of the room and talked to him from behind her back, “Just keep your distance, nearly half of the IT department’s out with the flu.” she said.

“Let’s...go.” he said through gritted teeth. Kepler walked a few paces behind Rachel, his eyes were fixed on the swishing of her ponytail and he almost tripped on a raised part of the carpet. The sound of her heels striking the carpeted hallway was beginning to sound more and more distant to him, even though he was getting closer to her, but the rush of cool air that came out when Rachel pushed the conference room door open brought Kepler back to his senses.

Cutter looked out into the hall, passed Rachel and Kepler, scanning it before sitting back in his chair. Kepler had seen Cutter earlier that day before his headache had started and Cutter had changed suits since then.

“Wow, you’ve changed. You must’ve made Dr. Pryce  _ really _ mad.” Rachel said and Cutter said something back to her with his trademark smile that Kepler hadn’t paid any attention to. Rachel turned to a filing cabinet against the wall and began to take out a few of the hanging folders, while Kepler took his seat and opened up his file to the mission report. Cutter was flipping through some of the files he had in front of him and started to organize some of the ones that Rachel was handing to him. Kepler was trying to settle himself comfortably in his chair, but he was facing the window and the harsh golden light of the midday sun that shone through the trees brought this headache back.

“Needless to say Warren, I am very impressed with your last mission. I--” he looked up at Warren for the first time, “something wrong Warren? You look ill.” he said. Kepler took a quick breath before responding.

“Thank you for your concern, Mr. Cutter, but I’m fi--” he started before Rachel cut in.

“Oh, he definitely is. He’s just too stubborn to admit it.” she said to Cutter from over her shoulder, completely ignoring Kepler, as she continued to pull out folders from the cabinet.

“We can always reschedule this meeting, Warren. For now, I’d like you to go down to Dr. Morgan’s lab to get checked out.” he said and scribbled down the directions to her lab on a piece of paper that he handed to Kepler. There really was no arguing with Cutter. Her name rang a bell in Kepler’s head, she was more of a researcher than a doctor, but he trusted her more than he trusted Selberg (or whatever alias he was using) because none of her work involved experimenting on unwilling human test subjects--she, at least, sort of cared about people.

With the meeting effectively over, Rachel ceased organizing the files and said she would put them away before going back to her desk to update Cutter’s schedule, but Cutter stopped her.

“Rachel, I can take care of these files, why don’t take Warren down to see the doctor? We can’t have one of our directors collapsing in the elevator.” he said,  _ he really is desperate to avoid Pryce _ . Rachel opened her mouth to protest but quickly caught herself.

“Yes, sir.” she responded, the smugness drained from her voice. Cutter clicked his tongue once.

“Oh, don’t look so dejected, Rachel. Suffering builds character. And, if you happen to run into Miranda...” he started, leaving the rest up to Rachel.

“I have absolutely no idea where you are.” she said. Cutter smiled genuinely back at her, Kepler wondered what gift basket would mysteriously appear at Rachel’s desk this time. She walked out of the conference room and held the door open for Kepler, trying to look nice for Cutter no doubt. Kepler wanted to think that the soreness in his knee was the only issue that kept him from keeping up with Rachel’s power stride, but he was feeling  _ a lot _ more than just a sore knee. Rachel pressed the down button and the two waited less than ten seconds for the elevator to arrive. As they were going down to one of the basement laboratories, Kepler remembered that he had a few aspirin pills in a plastic bag in his jacket pocket and pulled them out.

“Mind if I borrow some water?” he asked.

“Sorry, I don’t have any.” she responded, her mostly full water bottle dangling losely in her right hand. Kepler fought through his headache to ‘tsk’ her like Cutter did.

“Oh, Miss Young... what would Mr. Cutter say about this?” he asked. Rachel rolled her eyes.

“That suffering builds character.” she responded curtly, but handed him the bottle. He swallowed two pills and capped it, “You can keep it.” she sneered at him.

“How nice of you.” he responded. The elevator door opened and Kepler took out the piece of paper Cutter had given him so that he could find Dr. Morgan’s lab. He and Rachel walked down the hallway until they reached room 130 with the placard ‘Dr. Lavinia Morgan’ on the door.

“Well, here you are. Now, if you don’t mind, I have to get back to work.” she said. He had used up all his energy in the elevator and let out a slight huff as she turned away and walked back down the hall. 

Kepler pushed the partially open door to the room and stepped inside, there was a woman in her late twenties wearing a pristine white lab coat with long hair tied up in a bun. He remembered her now, during one of the holiday parties, she had Cutter as her secret Santa and became a legend among the other doctors when her gift practically  _ stunned _ him. She had gone looking for some extra pens in a storage room where she found one of the first copies of the deep space survival manual that had a typo in the introduction. She had it rebound and got everyone in her department to sign it and then, to top it all off, they wrote a message for him in it that only they and Cutter were privy to.

“Hello, Major Kepler. Mr. Cutter let me know you were coming. You can take a seat on the bed.” she said. He walked across the room and climbed up on the bed, the white paper crinkling underneath him. She was clearing away some extraneous monitors and IV stands out of the way to make some more room, he used this time to catch his breath and wipe some of the sweat off his forehead.

“Take off your shirt, please.” Dr. Morgan said, still moving around the room without looking up at him until she pulled together all the medical equipment she was looking for and put on a pair of gloves. Kepler placed his jacket and unbuttoned shirt beside him on the bed. Dr. Morgan came over and pressed her stethoscope to his chest, the coolness of it came as a relief to Kepler. “Take a few deep breaths,” she listened intently and narrowed her eyes like she was trying to read a far-away sign, “huh.” she said.  _ Huh?--you’ve got to be kidding me _ . She moved behind him and after a moment touched his left shoulder blade. “Does that hurt or itch?” she asked.

“It itches a little.” he had barely noticed it until she asked.

“Guess that makes sense” she mumbled to herself.

“Would you mind telling me what’s going on?” he asked, losing patience. She didn’t seem to notice his growing irritability.

“You’ve got a circle-y, red rash. I’m going to have to run a test, but it looks like you’ve got lyme disease. Oh, and you’ve also got an irregular heartbeat, so sit tight for a second.” she added, almost as an afterthought and moved briskly out of the room. Kepler was left with the phrase ‘ _ irregular heartbeat’ _ lingering in the air. He wondered if she meant to skip over the other general medical checks, or if she just forgot. Dr. Morgan returned holding a latex tourniquet and a needle with a slim plastic tube that was connected to a glass vial. “Left or right arm?” she asked.

“Left.” he said. She felt for his vein, tied the tourniquet on his upper arm, and rubbed an antibacterial wipe on the crook of his elbow.

“This will pinch a little.” she said and inserted the needle. Kepler never had any trouble with needles and watched the dark red blood flow through the tube into the vial until it was about halfway full. Dr. Morgan placed a piece of gauze over the needle point, taped it down, and slid the needle out. “Put some pressure on this for a minute, I’ll be right back. You can lie down if you’d like.” she said. She discarded the needle and plastic tube, put a label on the glass vial, and walked out of the room without bothering to close the door. 

Kepler pressed the gauze and kept his eye on the clock, watching the hand make its way around. After the minute was over, Kepler moved his shirt and jacket so he could swing his legs up onto the bed and lie down. He let out a quiet sigh of relief as he rested his head on the two pillows at the head of the bed. It was not the most comfortable bed, but it was better than sitting at his desk and much safer than trying to drive his car through rush-hour traffic, and, even better, the aspirin was kicking in.

Dr. Morgan came back about five minutes later, pulling in a monitor that was about a foot and a half taller than her,  _ she’s even shorter than Maxwell _ . Wires were hanging off the machine and she wheeled it over next to the bed. She pulled a packet of blue gel out of her lab coat pocket and began to apply some of it to different spots on his chest with a Q-tip, she saw him watching her closely.

“Oh, you probably want to know what I’m doing.” she said.

“That...would be...nice.” Kepler responded.

“This is a heart monitor, I want to keep an eye on your heartbeat. And this gel is to just help the electrodes stick. Heart problems aren’t very common with lyme disease, but it happens.” when she finished setting the machine up, it began to emit a steadily irregular beat. She looked up at the clock and sighed, “I’m going to check the lab results for your blood...this would be so much easier if I had an assistant, but  _ nooo _ , Hilbert gets everything.” she mumbled to herself, but turned back into the room just as she was about to leave. She picked up a rectangular box with a gray, thin, plastic stick attached to it. “Here, holding this under your tongue. Don’t move it or talk or you’ll mess up the reading.” she stepped over a few wires and a stool and walked out of the room.

Kepler tried to focus on his breathing, but the ticking of the clock, and beeping of the heart monitor and thermometer distracted him. He closed his eyes to fight off all the other stimuli that he knew would bring back his headache. The thermometer stopped beeping, but he decided to just hold it where it was, even though he certainly did not have to. 

Dr. Morgan came back a few minutes later holding a bottle of pills that she put down on the counter that was next to Kepler’s head. She took the thememoter from his mouth, “102, about what I expected from lyme, not great, but could be worse. Oh, yeah, you have lyme disease” she said.

“So...I...gathered. Doctor...when...do...you think I can...go back to work?” he asked, Kepler had had enough of today.

“Definitely not until the fever goes down. This should help though,” she said, picking up the bottle of pills, “they’re some antibiotics. Take one at night, one in the morning, and one in the afternoon. With food, preferably.” she pointed to the plastic water bottle that Rachel had so graciously donated to him. “Are you good with liquids for now?” she asked.

“Yes, fine.” he said.

“I’d also recommend that you stay the night here, so we can keep an eye on your heart. If it’s alright with you, we can’t force you.” she said.

“I’ll be fine here for the night.” he responded. It was more than fine with him, the prospect of going back to his apartment and having to expend all that energy was not appealing, besides, the breakfast that he would get at Goddard would be much better than whatever his fevered mind would be able to pull together at home.

“Sounds good. We can move you into a different room, so you can have an actual bed...and I don’t have to wade through everyone’s excess shi--stuff.” Dr. Morgan said and asked him if he wanted to try walking. Kepler was never one to turn down a challenge. She turned off the heart monitor, unplugged the wires from the machine, and taped them to Kepler’s side so he would not have to hold onto them and they would not hang down while he walked. He slipped his shirt and jacket on over his shoulders without buttoning either. He moved slowly, but was mostly steady, which was good because Dr. Morgan would be too small to catch him if he fell. The scent of rubbing alcohol was thick in the hallway, it was not as strong in room 133 (his nice, new room with a hospital bed and bathroom), but the smell still lingered and even the cool air coming through the vent felt sterile.

The bed was lower and softer than the one in the other room, which made it easier for him to settle into. After he was lying down comfortably (as comfortable as he could be at the moment), Dr. Morgan retrieved the heart monitor and set it back up. She pulled out some blankets from the closet and gave them to Kepler who had taken off his shirt and jacket again.

“I’ll let you get some rest. I’ve got to go to a meeting soon, but buzz me if you need anything.” she told Kepler, showing him a call button next to his bed. Dr. Morgan clicked off the lights and closed the door as she walked out of the room.

He woke up a few hours later as Dr. Morgan was coming back into his room. “How are you feeling, Major Kepler?” she asked, carrying a few plastic water bottles in her arms, as well as what looked like a takeout bag. Kepler had to readjust his mind to remember where he was and why, he said he was fine without actually thinking about it. “I brought some more water, hydration is key and so forth. And I grabbed a burger from Five Guys for you--I asked Mr. Jacobi what you liked.” she set the water bottles down on the counter and the bag on the bed’s swivel tray. Kepler sleepily thanked her, she took out a pill from the bottle and placed it on a napkin on the counter, “Take this when you’ve finished eating.” she said.

She came back a few minutes after he had eaten and taken the antibiotic to ask if he wanted anything to help him sleep, but he declined--Kepler was practically falling asleep as she was talking to him, and he never had much trouble sleeping in a noisy place, so none of the beeping would disturb him.


	2. Field of Fluorescents

An odd fever dream woke Kepler sometime later, it was impossible to tell how long he had slept because there were no windows in the laboratories and it was too dark to see the clock on the wall. He imagined checking the time on his phone nearly each time he closed his eyes for more than ten seconds, which only served to increase his disorientation. Kepler did not have vivid dreams and he did not remember anything about them when he woke up except for some lingering feeling that connected him back to his dreams--the last flash of sentience of his dream-life fighting to validate its brief, inconsequential existence. He tried to piece together his reality, but his thoughts echoed loudly and reverberated in his mind like the sound of moths flying into window screens. 

He was able to slowly (but no longer in a dream) reach his arm out and look at the lock screen of his phone, it was just a little past three in the morning. Kepler tried to sit up and grab one of the plastic water bottles on the counter, but the stiffness in his neck had gotten worse and he curled his hands into tight fists. _Maybe, if I focus on the pain hard enough, I’ll pass out_.

“Good morning, Major Kepler. How did you sleep?” a tired, but cheery voice asked. Kepler squinted as Dr. Morgan turned on one of the three rows of fluorescent lights in the room. The little hand on the clock was somewhere in the seven or eight range.

“Fine, until about four hours ago.” he said.

“What happened?”

“I...woke...up.” Kepler hoped that Dr. Morgan’s smile was not an indication that she was going to try to murder him.

“Is that all?” she prompted

“I was in...a lot...of pain.” he ‘explained.’

“Can you describe it?” Dr. Morgan had picked up the clipboard that was left hanging at the foot of the bed and took out a pen.

“ _Excruciating_.” the words came out bitter and through gritted teeth, Dr. Morgan nodded in response.

“Muscle pain, headaches, and neck stiffness are all common sleep disturbances in patients with lyme disease.” she said as if it was supposed to be some sort of solace to Kepler-- _sure you’re in a lot of pain, but hey, gotta take the bitter with the sweet, right_? “How did you feel temperature-wise when you woke up?” she asked, her eyes scanning over the paper and occasionally scribbling things down.

“Hot. I was sweating a lot.” he said.

“How do you feel temperature-wise now?”

“Less hot.” Kepler said. Dr. Morgan picked up the rectangular box with the thermometer and handed it to Kepler. While he was holding the plastic stick in his mouth, she opened up a small paper bag and pulled out a chocolate chip muffin and a banana that she put on a miniature paper plate. The thermometer beeped three times in succession and Dr. Morgan took it from Kepler.

“102.2--it’s gone down.” she put a water bottle on the tray with the food and pill and moved it closer to Kepler. “You don’t have to eat it all if you don’t want to, but I’d like you to have a little food before you take the antibiotic.” she said. Dr. Morgan sat in a chair next to the desk and stared absent-mindedly at the wall with her head resting on her fist.

He had eaten about half of the muffin and half the banana before he took the pill, and after the food and water, the grogginess was beginning to fade so that he was aware enough to remember to ask Dr. Morgan if she could get him something to help him sleep. She left the room for a few minutes and returned with two halves of a pill. She told him to take one half and if he was not tired after thirty minutes, to take the other half.

“I’ve got to prepare for a meeting, but I’ll be back with more food in the afternoon.” there was an underlying tenseness in her voice that gave her a nervous smile like she was trying to keep herself from snapping the clipboard over her knee, or keep herself from crying, possibly both. Kepler did not really need any food other than the rest of the muffin and banana, but free food was free food. Kepler swallowed one half of the pill and waited around for a few minutes wondering if it would work, and then woke up when Dr. Morgan returned nearly eight hours later.

“Wow, you really must’ve been tired.” she said. Dr Morgan placed an order of chicken tenders and fries next to the food from the morning and the antibiotic. “I’d like to take your temperature before you eat.” she said and pulled out the thermometer, but because Kepler was still half-asleep from the pill she had given him, she held the stick in his mouth. “101.6. That’s great, Major!” she said, but the tenseness in her voice from earlier had not completely dissipated.

“You say that like I’ve actually accomplished something.” he murmured.

“Believe it or not, you sort of have, your body’s doing a very good job of fighting back. Do you mind if I take a look at your legs?” she asked.

“Go...ahead.” he replied. Dr. Morgan moved the blankets aside and examined his knees.

“I’d ask you if you wanted to try walking, but your left knee seems pretty swollen, so I think we should hold off until that goes down.” _Great, more lying around looking at the walls_.

He had eaten and taken the antibiotic while she was off having her meeting later that afternoon when Rachel Young walked into his room.

“Ooh, looking good, Warren. You really do a good job of pulling off this sickly pale and bedridden look--very chic, honestly.” she taunted.

“Fancy seeing you here.” he said dryly. She leaned against the wall and wrinkled her nose.

“Cutter sent me down to check on you, I think he’s _still_ trying to set us up.” she pulled an expensive looking chocolate bar out of her pocket and broke it in half. “Want some?”

“Did...you...poison it?” he asked slowly to annoy her.

“No.” _Too bad_ , Kepler thought to himself. “Cutter said it would be good if I shared the wealth with you.”

“Sure.” he said, secretly afraid to not take advantage of Cutter’s, what was it, generosity? She handed him one half of the bar. “Is...this part of...his bi-monthly…‘thank you for not ratting me out to Dr. Pryce...gift basket.” he asked, Kepler took a bite out of the bar, _Cutter has some damn good taste in chocolate_.

“It is,” she placed one hand on her chest, “Cutter spares no expense for his favorite worker.” she smiled cruelly at him, he glared back. “How should I tell him you’re feeling?” she asked with a false oh-so-sweet voice.

“Fine...should be ready to go back to work any time now.” Kepler said. He stopped speaking slowly so he could get her out of the room as soon as possible.

“Really? Because that heart monitor says otherwise.” pointing her index finger at the beeping monitor next to his bed. It was still beating awkwardly, but sounded better than it had the previous night; however, it was still irregular enough to be a good cause for concern. _Should it sound so much better_ , Kepler wondered. She was about to walk out of the room when two tense voices flooded the hallway. One of them came from Dr. Morgan and the other came from a man Kepler did not know, the two stopped outside of the room. He saw most of her body through the open door, her voice was irritable and commanding.

“Please leave me alone, I have a pati--” she started, but the man cut her off and Kepler could not hear what he said (perhaps Rachel, who was closer to the door, heard), but Dr. Morgan’s body froze with rage before she struck out with her right hand and scratched his face. “ _No one goddamn talks to me like that_.” she snarled. The man spun around after uttering what was most likely some sort of threat and stormed down the hallway.

Kepler and Rachel watched her come back into the room and sit down in a chair. “Hi, Rachel.” she said.

“Hello, Lavinia. That was some thrashing you gave him.” she laughed, almost approvingly.

“He’s gonna freak.” she sighed.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure Cutter goes easy on you. I would’ve done the same thing.” she touched Dr. Morgan’s shoulder and stepped out of the room.

She leaned back in the chair and took a few deep breaths. “I shouldn’t have done that. I make bad decisions.” she said disparagingly to herself and closed her eyes.

“Who..was...that?” he asked.

“Just some bastard from the CIA who wants to confiscate my research for ‘ _national security_.’” she growled. There was blood underneath her fingernails.

“Oh, is...that...all?” he asked flatly. She smirked microscopically before whispering ‘fuck’ to herself. The phone on the wall rang and she pushed off the wall in her chair over to it. “Hello, Dr. Lavinia Morgan speaking.” she listened and then moved the phone away from her ear. “It’s Dr. Maxwell, she’s wondering if she and Mr. Jacobi could come and see you.” she said.

“Fine with me.” Kepler responded. He was playing it cool, but he was secretly very glad to be hearing from people he knew he could trust. Even though she was yet to kill him, he was unsure of the motives of Dr. Morgan and how she came to work for Goddard in the first place. She gave him a thumbs up and told Maxwell that she and Jacobi were all clear, and that she would be in a meeting, so they could just come in if she wasn’t there. _Another meeting_?

“Well, I’ve got to go hide in a broom closet for the next year, buzz me if you need anything.” she said.

“Before you go, doctor...I have a...question.” he said.

“Yes, Major?” she responded. Kepler pointed to the heart monitor.

“My heart is sounding much better...I...did not think...an...irregular heartbeat...could...start... _clearing up_...so...quickly.” he said. Dr. Morgan caught on that he was speaking slowly because he wanted her to know how seriously he was asking this, she smiled.

“These antibiotics are much better than _anything_ you could _ever_ get at a hospital. I’d know.” she responded. Her voice was full of pride, there may even have been a little smugness in it. “But they aren’t experimental.” she added quickly, no lingering smugness. She seemed desperate to prove to him that she was not trying to kill him or force him into becoming a guinea pig for Goddard Futuristics. “I’ll see you later, Major.” Dr. Morgan said. She picked up some files she had left behind before her unfortunate meeting with the CIA agent, and left the room. Her mood seemed to shift so often, almost as if she forgot that she may have just fucked herself into an abyss, but maybe she was glad to have drawn some blood.

Maxwell and Jacobi got there a few minutes later, Maxwell carried a manila folder in her left hand and had a bag hanging off her right shoulder.

“How are you feeling, Major?” Maxwell’s cheerful voice filled the room.

“You don’t happen to have my flask in that folder, do you?” he asked, Maxell shook her head and smiled playfully.

“Sorry, Major.” she said.

“After all that work we did back in Argentina, it would be a shame if we were to kill you now.” Jacobi added.

Kepler had never been seriously sick in the past few years, the only time he had been unable to go to work was when he got an infected wound while on a mission in Argentia with Jacobi and Maxwell, and needed to be observed in a hospital for two days. Before they could get him to a doctor, Maxwell and Jacobi acted as his ‘triage’ doctors, and did a surprisingly good job of not killing him. Maxwell made him recite ‘I have a staph infection, if I do not do exactly as Maxwell says, I will lose a limb and/or die’ a few times before leaving him alone.

“But, we do think” she exchanged a smile with Jacobi, they truly were the wonder twins, “that you will like what we have.” Maxwell said. She laid down the open folder in front of Kepler on his tray and set a pen down next to it.

“We finished all the paperwork from the last mission. All we need is your signature--feel free to look over it before you sign.” Jacobi said.

“I’m...sure...the two of you...did...a...fine...job.” he responded and sighed at the bottom. He trusted the two of them to be professional enough to correctly fill out at least one piece of paperwork, and he also did not feel like reading through an account of a mission that they already knew. They talked with Kepler for about another thirty minutes before a message pulled Jacobi away--he was needed to help fix a mechanical problem that the engineering team could not do without another person because half of their team, like the IT department, was out with the flu. Maxwell had finished most of the work she had to do for the day and hung around.

“Oh, I almost forgot. I have another little gift for you,” she reached into her bag and pulled out a miniature box of Golden Grahams and a plastic spoon that was in a ziploc bag, “I asked Dr. Morgan if it was okay.” she said.

“You truly are a godsend, Dr. Maxwell.” Kepler said.


	3. Person or Persons Unknown

Rachel Young passed by Alana Maxwell and Daniel Jacobi on her way back to the elevator, she did not have a problem with the two of them like she did with Warren, so some brief small talk would not hurt.

“Off to see the Major?” she asked.

“That’s right.” Maxwell said.

“My, he is quite popular today. Well, I’ll let you two go on your way.” she smiled and stepped into the elevator. She knew that Cutter was expecting her to get to his office as soon as possible, but the stem of her heel got caught in the space between the elevator and the hallway as she exited the elevator and rolled her ankle. She inhaled sharply,  _ fuck that hurt _ . Rachel stopped in the break room to put some ice in a bag that she tied around her ankle, and moved carefully but still quickly to Cutter’s office. That detour would make her get to his office late, which would not make him happy, but  _ he needs to learn to be more patient _ . As she moved down the fall, she counted up all the ‘flu prevention’ signs taped to the walls.  _ Those are really working out for everyone, huh _ , she thought bitterly of all the extra work she would have to do, along with whatever random assignments that Cutter would decide to toss at her on a whim.

As Rachel neared her desk, she heard a voice echoing out of Cutter’s office, but it was certainly not Cutter’s. He never yelled, his voice was always level (occasionally a bit stern), it almost always sounded threatening, but he never yelled because he told Rachel that the only people who yell are the ones who have something to prove. She moved closer to see Cutter seated behind his desk with his ‘yes-I’m-definitely-paying-attention’ look that was just barely masking his palpable boredom. The man who was making all the noise was wearing a dark blue suit and had his back to the door. Cutter saw Rachel and subtly gestured for her to come in, she would have liked to reach her desk and change into flats, but he had already seen her and she was late enough as it was. She quickly grabbed a manila folder to use as a prop.

“I have never, once, been  _ physically assaulted _ by---”  _ blah blah blah _ .  _ That CIA agent moves fast _ . Rachel cut him off with a knock at the door. The man turned to face her, three bleeding scratches on his left cheek. His body was tense, clearly upset with her for interrupting his tirade. Mr. Cutter  _ hated _ to be interrupted, but interrupting someone else?--that was an entirely different situation all together.

“Why, please come in, Miss Young.” Cutter mused. She pushed open the door and walked in, careful to not put too much weight on her ankle. She moved straight to Cutter’s desk and placed the folder in front of him, completely ignoring the agent to let him know that he was not was not welcome there.

“Here are the files you asked for, sir.” she said. Cutter thanked her.

“I was hoping we could get through this  _ undisturbed _ .” the CIA agent shot a contemptuous glare at Rachel.

“Yes, but  _ I _ wasn’t.” Cutter replied. He put both hands on his desk and pushed his chair back, “I’ll be sure to talk to Dr. Morgan, but for now, I have a lot of work to do.” the agent stood nearly shaking with fury, but left his office and headed down the hallway to the elevators.

“Did you do something to your ankle?” he asked, Rachel was relieved that he did not comment on her being late.

“Yes, I got my heel stuck in the elevator.” she said.

“You should keep it elevated, you can sit on the couch if you’d like.” he said, she sat down on it so that she was facing Cutter with her left ankle balancing up on the arm.  _ He’s being nice, rewarding me for helping to get the CIA agent out of his office _ .

“I’m guessing that was the man who was meeting with Lavinia.” she said. Cutter nodded.

“How did you know?” he asked.  _ Be careful with how you answer, don’t say anything stupid or rude _ .

“I saw Lavinia scratch him.” Rachel responded

“And…?”

“He called her a bitch, so she clawed his face.” she said. Cutter laughed genuinely, and said that he would have to tell Miranda about that (not that she would fully appreciate it, he added). The office was silent for a moment before Cutter sighed and rested his chin on his hands.

“We both know Lavinia’s... _ temper _ has gotten her in trouble before.” he said.

“Well, at least she didn’t stab him.” Rachel added.

“That last stabbing was in self-defense.” or is at least what they would have claimed if anyone had found a body.

“What stabbing?” Rachel asked feigning innocence, Cutter smirked. She and Lavinia shared the same willingness to lie to protect themselves and Goddard.

“I think I’m going to schedule a meeting with Lavinia for tomorrow without telling her what it’s about to keep her on her toes. Besides, if she hadn’t scratched him, I wouldn’t have had to listen to that  _ insufferable _ man.” he said.

“Oh, I told Lavinia that I would ask you to go easy on her.” Lavinia shifted the bag filled with partially melted ice on her ankle.

“I’ll see what I can do. Speaking of the good doctor...how is our dear friend Warren?” Cutter asked.

“Better, not literally about to collapse, but not ready to go back to work. Lavinia’s got him on some powerful antibiotics, though, so it shouldn’t be more than a few days.” she reported

“You don’t sound very enthusiastic, Rachel, hoping that you could get a few more days without Warren around?” he asked.

“Something like that...sir.” she said. Sometimes she wondered if part of the contempt between her and Warren boiled down to ‘who does daddy like best?’-- _ I’d definitely be winning if that was the case _ , but she knew that there was more to it, a definitive competitiveness in trying to compare their respective achievements and overall importance at Goddard.

“Did he like our little gift?” he asked, referring to the chocolate she had given him.

“Yes, sir. He did.” she replied. The ziploc bag slipped off her ankle and onto the floor.

“How’s your ankle? Are we still on for tonight?” Cutter rose from his chair and put the bag back on her ankle.

“It’s not too bad, and yes, but I’d like to change into different shoes.” she said. Rachel was being honest about her ankle, but even if it hurt terribly, she would have been too scared to say ‘no’ to Cutter.

“Of course. We can stop by your place, meet up with Victor for dinner, then get to the movie.” he said.

“Will Dr. Pryce be joining us tonight?” she asked. Dr. Pryce rarely did anything social, but Cutter occasionally was able to convince her to come along with him, Rachel, and Victor to their monthly movie-theater nights. “Or are you still hiding from her?”

“Hiding.” he said and glanced down at his watch. “What do you say we leave about six?”

** “Works for me.” she said.  _ I really hope Kepler never sees my ankle _ , Rachel thought, looking at the swelling and purple bruises that were beginning to appear on her skin,  _ I’d never hear the end of it _ .  
**


	4. Court of the Dragon

Jacobi rejoined Kepler and Maxwell later after all the mechanical problems were resolved. Kepler had grown tired of talking and allowed Jacobi to complain about how the weak immune systems of the engineering team were making his life more difficult and taking away time that he could be using for his projects. It was past late afternoon by then and Kepler was expecting Dr. Morgan to come back with some food, as long as she was no longer hiding in a broom closet. The door to Kepler’s room opened and Dr. Morgan backed into it, holding four bags from Five Guys in her arms, Maxwell got up and took a few of the bags and put them down on the counter.

“Hello, Dr. Morgan. Are, uh, visiting hours over? Do you want us to leave?” Jacobi asked, Dr. Morgan shook her head.

“No restrictions here. I actually expected the two of you to be here, so I brought food for the three of you.” she said. Jacobi’s face immediately brightened. “You can stay as long as Major Kepler sees fit. I’ve got to go and...hide in a broom closet again, so before I go, Kepler, remember: food, pill, water. I’ll see you later tonight.” she said and exited the room. She tended to have a list of everything she knew that she needed to tell him, but seemed to forget them until the last second and then say everything at once.

“Why is she hiding in a broom closet...is she serious about it?” Maxwell asked, leaning in towards Kepler and Jacobi as if she was afraid of offending an absent Dr. Morgan. Kepler did not think it was necessary to hide the truth from them, word would get around soon enough.

“She...had an...incident with a...CIA agent. Who knows if she’s serious...or not.” Kepler said. He was becoming suspicious of her constantly having meetings.

The three of them ate what Dr. Morgan had brought them, each burger was in its own bag, and the fourth one was filled with fries that they shared with each other. Dr. Morgan came back nearly thirty minutes later. “I take it that you’ve eaten and taken the pill.” she smiled at Kepler and was leaning hard on her right hip. She had forgotten to take his temperature before he ate, she picked up the thermometer and handed the rectangular box to Kepler. “You know the drill.” she said. He slipped the thermometer under his tongue, Jacobi and Maxwell started to shift in their seats like they were going to leave, but Kepler raised his free hand to stop them and they settled back into their chairs.

He no longer had a fever, and, because his heart rhythm had stabilized, Dr. Morgan removed the electrodes from his chest and handed him an antibacterial wipe to clean up the residual blue gel. He buttoned up his shirt once he was finished with it.

“Where...do you...go?” Kepler asked, seemingly out of the blue.

“What do you mean?” she asked innocently enough that it did not seem like she was feigning ignorance. However, her head was tilted ever so slightly, so that it looked as if she was saying, ‘you seem to ask a lot of questions, Major Kepler.’

“All...these... _ meetings _ .” he clarified.

“Ah, yes. I have many different meetings with many different people. I even have one tomorrow morning with Mr. Cutter.” She said with a blank face and false enthusiasm. Kepler resigned himself to the fact that she was not going to give him any more information than what little she had already given him.

“Good luck.” Jacobi said.

“Thanks, I’ll need it. Now that there’s a lot less strain on your heart, want to try walking down the hall?” she asked. Kepler walked down to the elevator with Dr. Morgan, and Jacobi and Maxwell, who bade him a fond farewell. It was a relief for him to stretch his legs and Dr. Morgan allowed him the dignity of wearing pants.

“Same thing, same time tomorrow, Major. But with how things are looking, it’ll probably be your last day and I can sign your work release form.” Dr. Morgan said cheerfully when they got back to the room. She had told Kepler that she could not force him to stay, which was the truth, but with a medical issue that required treatment, he could not officially return to work without written documentation from either a member of the Goddard Futuristics medical department or a licensed physician. Dr. Morgan turned the lights off and closed the door behind her.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The door opened and closed, but Kepler did not register any sound until he heard a faraway voice greet him.

“Hello, Warren. Feeling better?...Warren?”

When Kepler finally recognized Cutter’s sickly-sweet voice, his eyes shot open and moved quickly to sit up.

“Mr. Cutter, sir, I--” he began, but Cutter held up his hand.

“No need to be so formal, Warren. Just coming by to check in, and I was wondering if the good doctor had been in today.” he said, Kepler shook his head.

“Sorry, sir, I haven’t seen her since last night.” the news seemed to distress Cutter a bit. “Something wrong, sir?” he asked.

“Oh, it’s nothing. We just had a meeting that was scheduled for thirty minutes ago, and she’s never been late before.” he replied, the bright smile returning to his face.  _ Rest in peace, Dr. Morgan, you will be missed _ . “And you, Warren, how are you feeling?” he asked, moving from the foot to the left side of the bed. Kepler was not sure if Cutter was genuine (unlikely) or if he wanted to when he could return to work.

“Much better, thanks for asking.” he responded.

“What sort of boss would I be if I didn’t take an interest in the well-being of my employees?” he smiled, but them looked down at his watch and scowled, “I’ve got to go, but will you tell Lavinia that I’m looking for her when she gets in?”

** “Yes, sir.” Kepler replied. Cutter added that he would send Rachel down to bring him some food, maybe Cutter  _ was _ still trying to set them up. He gave Kepler a quick salute before backing out of the room. If Dr. Morgan was lucky, she would never come in,  _ ever again _ .   
**


	5. Interlude

Rachel Young waited at the end of the counter in the Goddard Futuristics cafeteria for a styrofoam takeout box of french toast and balanced her left foot gently on the toe of her flat. Cutter’s niceness from the previous day had ended and  _ that son of a bitch keeps sending me out on little fetch quests for Warren _ . She would now have to save Cutter from another disgruntled visitor or give him some very good news if she wanted him to treat her anything like a human being and not an above-average intelligent seal who is only good for balancing beach balls for treats. Rachel did not mind it as much as she thought she should because she had become used to it, and once she figured out how Cutter operated, everyday became a little less scary to the point where she could take his sass and give it right back without fearing that he would skin her alive. However, she hated the slow work days because she would have to sit at her desk along with her thoughts: if he wanted to, Cutter could easily kill her and find someone new. She believed Cutter would not kill someone who he had relied on and who had such a large presence in the office, but he would never appreciate her in the same way that he appreciated Dr. Pryce. Miranda Pryce was irreplaceable, Rachel Young was not.

She was trying to remind herself to get out of her own head when she glanced over at the drink vending machine and half-consciously thought that  _ Warren might need something to drink...oh God, I’m actually thinking about him...gross _ . They were not at all romantic feelings,  _ sorry Cutter _ , but being a caring and sympathetic person was not her strong suit. The cashier, a young man in his early twenties with curly black hair like Cutter’s, brought over the box with the french toast and asked Rachel if she wanted anything else. She asked for one ginger ale that she,  _ God help me _ , decided she would give to Warren.

Her ankle felt much more comfortable in flats than it did on heels and over the past twenty-four hours or so, the spelling and pain had decreased considerably. She rotated and massaged any parts that still felt sore while she rode down the elevator to the laboratories.

Warren looked up at her when she walked into the room, he had one hand behind his head and another laid straight out by his side. “Cutter?”

“Cutter.” she said and lay out her gift of food and drink on the bed’s tray.  _ He looks so bored, maybe I should find him a book, or--No! No! Stop thinking about being nice to Warren...it does not become you _ . Rachel was left wondering if she had sympathy for hurt people, but thought that it was more likely that Cutter’s previous kindness had softened her.  _ Fuck you, Cutter _ . “Still no Lavinia?” she asked before Warren started eating.

“I haven’t...seen her...today.” he said, his voice brimming with annoyance.

“What’s the matter, pretty boy, miss your lady friend?”  _ that felt so good _ . Kepler glared at her and his desire to get her out of the room surpassed all of his conceivable goals.

“I...was...hoping...to...go...back...to...work... _ but. I. Can’t. Do. That. If. She. Doesn’t. Show. Up. _ ” his voice was shaking with fury that was entirely directed towards Rachel. She used his anger against him for one more jab at him about not stressing out his heart before she went back up to Cutter’s office.

Rachel had had enough time since Cutter initially told her to get Warren come breakfast for her to work out most of her annoyance towards Cutter in miniature hypothetical battles inside her mind. Cutter was sitting at his desk with the side of his head resting on his hand, and half spinning the chair with his foot.

“Still haven’t heard from Lavinia, Mr. Cutter?” she asked, even though the answer was very obvious.

“That’s right.” he said and took a drink from his coffee cup.

“Warren hasn’t either. Maybe she didn’t come in because she thought you were going to...fire her.” she said, leaving Lavinia’s possible fate up to their imaginations.

“I  _ wasn’t _ going to...fire her.” he responded.

“Are you thinking of firing her now?”

“Not really.”

“Is that so?”

“Ah ah ah. Is that so…”

“Is that so,  _ sir _ ?” she replied almost reluctantly, but trying to not sound too bitter.

“Much better. And yes, that is so. I mean, she scratched a guy’s face for calling her a bitch. Truly iconic. Plus,” Cutter mused, “she did get me this  _ fantastic _ secret Santa gift.” he said, drumming his fingers over the book that was sitting on his desk. He looked back up at Rachel. “You do have great secret Santa judgement.”

“I pride myself on it, Mr. Cutter.” she gave a small, elegant bow. “How long are you going to wait before you send someone to Lavinia’s apartment?” she asked after a quiet moment had passed.

“I’ll give it ten more minutes, then I’ll send Victor over.”

Rachel and Cutter passed the next ten minutes discussing the movie that she, Cutter, and Victor had seen the night before (which, by the way, they all loved). Cutter decided to call Lavinia’s apartment one last time before contacting Victor, he picked up his work landline, dialed the number of her apartment, and put it on speaker. They listened as the sound of the phone dialing gave way to only steady beeping.

“It’s a busy signal.” Cutter said, almost confused.

“Was it that before?” Rachel asked.

“No.” Cutter hung up the phone.

“When did you last call?”

“Thirty minutes ago.”

“And her cell phone?”

“Straight to voicemail.”

** “That’s not good.” Rachel said and looked at Cutter, who was picking the phone up again and asked for Victor to come up to his office. Victor Rienmann appeared in minutes and Cutter thanked him for his promptness. Rachel knew that he was one of Cutter’s most trusted employees because he was willing to do whatever Cutter told him to, no questions asked,  _ ever _ . Cutter would allow himself to get close to Rachel and Victor and then pull away from them as if nothing had happened until the next time they did anything social together. It was almost as if Cutter wanted a trustworthy friend in the two of them, but did not care enough to actually follow through when he realized he did not need friendship, he needed respect and fear. Cutter did not tell Victor most of the details about what was going on, and simply sent him on his way with what essentially boiled down to, ‘go to Lavinia’s apartment and find out why she isn’t here.’   
**


	6. Patches of Red

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, just wanted to let you know that this chapter has some depictions of violence that includes blood and mentions/depicts the after-affects of torture

Victor picked the lock to Lavinia’s apartment without bothering to knock first and swung the door open. He moved left into the living room where Lavinia was lying face down on a beige carpet, coughing and spitting up blood through a cloth tied tightly around her mouth to gag her. 

The long pajama top she was wearing eclipsed a pair of shorts and the back of it was thick with blood. He went over to her and cut the three zip ties that were keeping her hands bound behind her back. Victor could not tell if she actually knew that someone was there, but one of her hands found his arm and grasped it, smearing it with blood from the three stab wounds in her back. There were three more zip ties around her ankles with one foot positioned on top of the other, so that it would have been almost impossible for her to walk. He would not have been able to cut them with only one hand, so he cut the gag away instead. Victor slipped the knife under the cloth that was behind her head and pulled up until it fell away from her mouth. It was soaked in blood and saliva--her teeth were stained a deep crimson. Her grip tightened on his arm as distorted and choking wheezes, that nearly sounded like crackling, seized her body. More blood flowed from her mouth and fell onto the carpet.

“Lavinia? Can you hear me?” Victor asked, lifting her head up from under her chin, it was slippery with fresh blood. There were old tear tracks through the blood on her face, her eyes were dull and the grip she had on his arm began to slacken. She let out a heavy breath and her hand fell away from his arm. If she had not died at that point, then she would die within the next few minutes and there was nothing to be done about it. Victor placed Lavinia’s head on the carpet, underneath all the blood on her hand, it was swollen and discolored.

The entire living room was torn practically apart, the bookshelves remained upright, probably to reduce the amount of noise, but ripped out pages of books were strewn around the room. Couch cushions were tossed into corners of the room and her apartment keys had been thrown under a glass covered coffee table. Victor walked past the entrance and turned into the kitchen where a second body lay sprawled across the floor.  _ This complicates things...there had to have been at least two here: one to die and one to kill Lavinia, but why leave this body behind _ ? He was dressed in nondescript clothing with the exception of a pair of brass knuckles on his right hand. There was a large kitchen knife lying in the pool of the man’s blood and a deep gash on the man’s throat where the knife had been plunged straight into his jugular. It was indicative of Lavinia’s work: quick and violent to try to, if you were lucky, scare anyone else long enough to get out. It was probably the first time she killed anyone where they could actually prove that it was done in self-defense. The kitchen was turned over like the living room was, all the cabinets were open, draws pulled out of the counters and their contents spilled onto the floor. The landline phone on the kitchen wall was left hanging down from its cord, nearly touching the white-tiled floor.

Victor pulled a chair from the table and put it over the bloody floor so he could get into Lavinia’s bedroom without getting blood on his shoes. The door was open and he turned the lights on, the bedsheets were mostly on the floor, based on her clothing, it made sense that they would have ripped her right out of her bed. Her phone was smashed as if someone had taken a heavy boot to it multiple times, and it was next to a cracked glass lamp with a bit of glistening red blood and black hair caught in it--Lavinia’s hair was brown and the dead man in the kitchen had blonde hair. End tables were overturned, books gutted, and her clothes from her dresser and closet had been thrown about the room. He walked over to the closed window where the fire escape was, the lock had been forced open from the outside-- _ the entrance and the exit _ . _ The person who left must have walked across the counter in the kitchen, or there would have been bloody shoe prints _ . On the floor by the window and next to a dumped out draw that came from the end table was an empty plastic pocket that would have been something about the size of a driver’s license. He bent down to pick it up, and at the top were the letters ‘GF.’  _ Jesus, it’s her keycard _ and he nearly dropped it, there were not many things in this world that shocked or scared Victor.

The first and only call is to Goddard: straight to Cutter.


	7. A Hand Reaches Out From the Darkness

The air of the office was thick with tension, but Cutter’s cheery demeanor returned to mask his growing agitation, when Parkhill from accounting came by to deliver the monthly budget report. Rachel and Cutter were both quietly anxious about what Lavinia’s absence entailed (Rachel was more anxious about what Cutter would do), but business does not stop at Goddard Futuristics. 

An ‘on-his-third (wait, no fourth)-cup-of-coffee’ Cutter moved around in front of the whiteboard that was mounted to the wall and spun an orange-colored marker in his hand. He and Rachel pired over the documents to decide what department should be allowed to embezzle the most money, Rachel was still not sure how allowing embezzlement benefited Goddard but she knew better than to question Cutter when it came to financials. They also had to determine how much money each person who committed corporate espionage on Goddard’s behalf should get per piece of intel. Whenever they went over the budget, Cutter would spend most of his time running his non-marker-spinning hand through his hair until it became disheveled and flopped around on his forehead. He occasionally chewed his lower lip, which was not common behavior for him at any time and Rachel took notice. She reasoned that there  _ was more to his meeting with Lavinia than admonishing her for scratching a CIA agent _ . The two of them were in the middle of determining how much money they should set aside for merchandising, and what sort of new things they could get this year when the ringing of his cell phone interrupted him. He answered the call without looking at the caller ID.

“This better be a life or death situation.” he said, his smile warped into a snarl but he did his best to maintain his composure. Interrupting Cutter at any point while he was really on a role, merchandising what his strong suit when it came to the budget, was never pleasant. Rachel heard a male voice over the phone, Cutter’s jaw was set tight and he spoke through gritted teeth. “Yes, that counts... _ What?! _ ...I’ll meet you there.” he ended the call and took a deep breath before putting on ‘it’s-time-to-murder-some-people’ smile and fixing his hair. “I’ve got to go Rachel. Now, listen to me very carefully.” she nodded. “Someone has Lavinia’s keycard, so I need you to go to her office and take out all the folders in the blue filing cabinet and match them with the names in the medical research database.  _ If any one of those names are missing, I need you to tell me immediately. Do you understand _ ?” he asked. He was standing in front of her arms-length away with both of his hands on her shoulders and looking into her eyes intently.

“Yes, Mr. Cutter. You can count on me, sir.” she answered quickly and with confidence.

“I know. You’ll need a member of the medical department.” he said without explaining why and practically stormed out of the room, but elegantly, like everything else he does. In the back of her mind she was hoping this would result in Cutter owing her favor:  _ I’d love an extra day off this month, or a raise--if I survive _ .

Rachel rubbed her hands together as she waited for the elevator.  _ Come on, come on, I need--wait...wait, if someone has Lavinia’s keycard...they might, just might depending on the security, be able to access one of the above-ground medical facilities and then go down stairs to the research labs--where Lavinia worked. I need to call Cutter _ . The door to the elevator opened with a ‘ding’ and she stepped inside as she pulled out her phone and dialed Cutter’s number.

“Rachel.” Cutter answered, she was filled with too much nervous energy to notice if there was any emotion in his voice, negative or otherwise.

“If someone has her keycard, they can get into medical storage if they use it on the Northwest entrance by the parking lot and pick the lock on the inner door and then get down to the lower research labs.” she said, trying not to sound as frantic as she felt. There were a few moments of silence from Cutter.

“...That’s true.” he said, she could practically hear the snarling, angry smile over the phone. Rachel wondered if he had forgotten about it--it was not commonly used and medical storage was only meant to keep the actual medical department from being directly accessed from the ground level.

“I can look to see if anyone has used the keycard in the last twelve hours, but I’ll need security clearance to view the records.” she responded.  _ Stay calm, you can do this _ .

“Warren’s an intelligence director, he has security clearance.” Cutter said.  _ Dear God, why do you keep putting me near him _ ?

“I’ll get him and a med staff member. I’ll call you when we find something out.” she replied. The elevator came to a stop and the doors opened with another ‘ding.’

“Good, Rachel. I knew I could count on you. I’m going to have Victor email you some information.” Cutter said without bitterness or sarcasm. The call ended as she stepped out of the elevator.

Rachel moved swiftly down the laboratory hallways, ignoring the strain it was putting on her ankle, the door to room 133 was open and she could hear Warren arguing with Dr. Hilbert. She practically threw herself into the room much to the surprise of the two men.


	8. Remove Your Mask

Kepler’s boredom reached fever pitch after he finished eating and decided that whether or not Dr. Morgan approved it, because his patience with her had run out, he was going back to work. She had Jacobi and Maxwell bring over some extra clothes for him the first full day he spent in Goddard’s medical facility and he took out some of them that were stored in the closet, as well as a towel, and took them into the bathroom with him. He showered and spent most of the time with his right hand leaning on the wall because, even though his left knee was no longer swollen, it was still sore. After Kepler had dried himself off, he wiped the foggy mirror with the towel and used the cordless electric razor and toothbrush and paste to clean himself up. He ran the faucet to clear it of the hairs and toothpaste, he was in a hurry to get back to work, but he was not a slob. Kepler had not been out of the bathroom for more than three minutes and was fully dressed except for his tie and just about to fix his hair when the door to the room opened. He spun around, furious with Dr. Morgan for being so late, but she was replaced with a lanky bald doctor who was twice her age.

“Hilbert. What are...you...doing...here?” Kepler growled.

“Am your new doctor.” he replied, ignoring Kepler’s anger. Kepler contemplated what sort of creative punishment he could force onto Hilbert when this was all over. He trusted  _ Rachel _ more than he trusted Hilbert. He did not make any eye contact with Kepler.

“Where. Is. Dr. Morgan?” he asked, already making the only logical assumption. “I would like... _ very much _ ...to get back...to work.” he snarled.

“Dead.” was his only response. His voice was regretful, somber, a nearly shocking display of emotion from him. This was more surprising than Dr. Morgana’s death, but the emotion eventually dissipated

“How?”

“Cutter is not saying.” Hilbert shrugged.

“Why was she killed?” he pressed. Hilbert did not say anything. “Is it because of what happened yesterday?” Hilbert chuckled to himself and turned to face Kepler.

“Scratching one CIA agent does not put target on person’s back. She’s been annoyance to CIA for a long time.” Kepler considered this and theorized that she probably would not have lived another month whether she scratched the man or not. “Goddard recruits people with pasts.” he added ominously and without further clarification, Kepler remembered the slight smirk on Dr. Morgan’s face after she assaulted the agent. “Now, please sit down, Major Kepler, need to draw blood.” he said, opening up a drawer and pulling out a needle, slim plastic tube, and vial.  _ If there were needles and vials here, why did Dr. Morgan leave to get the same equipment _ ?--it was a question he doubted he would ever answer.

“What you need...is...to...sign...the goddamn...release...form.” Kepler said.

“You still look pale.” Hilbert replied, continuing to be indifferent to Kepler’s anger.

“Of course I look pale! I haven’t  _ seen _ the sun in three days!” the calculation may not have been entirely accurate, but he would be damned if he did not try to get his point across as succinctly as possible. Their argument continued back and forth for a few minutes, the two of them slowly moving closer to each other as the negative energy between them built, until Rachel burst into the room. She was nearly breathless and had an intense look on her face. Kepler and Hilbert, even though they would never admit it, both jumped.

“I need the two of you.  _ Now _ .” she said and grabbed each of them by the arm.

“ _ Ms. Young _ ! I do not need to tell you how infuriating these last few days have been, so  _ please _ \--” Kepler yelled.

“Do you want to be the one to tell Cutter that someone broke the goddamn hell in and stole highly sensitive medical data?!” she yelled back. Neither Kepler nor Hilbert had the time to protest if they wanted to--Rachel practically hauled them out of the room.


	9. The Uninvited

Rachel’s phone buzzed shortly after they entered Dr. Morgan’s office and she fumbled with it for a moment as she pulled it out of her pocket. “It’s from Victor.” she said. Attached in the email was a brief preliminary report of Lavinia’s death and she read it out to them--Victor entered her apartment at about 9:55, found her in her living room with three stab wounds in her back, she died about a minute or two later, and there was a dead man in her kitchen. Warren Kepler had to leave the room to get a laptop from a room down the hall that had access to the administrative server. When he returned, he sat against a wall in the office with the laptop resting on his outstretched legs. He was typing in his credentials while Rachel was kneeling in front of the blue filing cabinet and unlocking it. She had remarked that it was smaller than she expected, but Hilbert reminded her that there were still a lot of files that they would have to go through. While Kepler was waiting for the computer to load, he went over to the filing cabinet and pulled out some of the hanging folders with Rachel. Inside each folder were smaller folders and each was labeled at the top with five numbers followed by the person’s last name and then their first. Rachel had moved behind Hilbert as he was logging into Dr. Morgan’s computer.

“How do you know her log-in information?” Rachel asked.

“Everyone in department knows each other’s--for things like this.” Hilbert explained. 

“It was the same for my old intelligence unit.” Kepler added, not knowing why he was bringing it up to two people he despised. He and Rachel were both standing behind Hilbert as he entered in the number that would have been on her keycard. A ‘welcome Lavinia’ box popped up with a series of digital folders underneath it, Hilbert double-clicked on the one labeled ‘med. dept. info (etc.).’ 

“Need folder from cabinet.” Hilbert said and Rachel handed him the one she was holding. Hilbert typed in the account number into a search bar and a single name appeared as a result, he opened the folder and a document came up. Each heading and subheading were written in plain English, but all the information below where Lavinia would have manually inputted information was a series of letters, numbers, and symbols that were seemingly punctuated with hyphens or three backslashes. Hilbert flipped open the physical folder, it was written in the same complex and completely unreadable code as the digital file. Hilbert paused for a moment and clicked on the settings button on the top right hand corner of the database and they saw over his shoulder that the text box said, ‘last accessed by external sources two hours ago.’ Rachel and Kepler tensed, but Hilbert seemed unfazed. The start-up sound came from the laptop and Kepler went back to sitting against the wall and balancing the laptop on his legs. He went into the settings to find the program that kept track of all the times a keycard was used to enter a building.

“What does it mean if a name is missing from the database?” Rachel asked.

“Files either corrupted or deleted.” he said without taking his eyes off the screen.

“Can an external source do that?”

“Difficult, but possible.” Hilbert replied. The two of them continued going through the files carefully and thoroughly, but also going as quickly as that allowed. After they had gone through more files that had the same odd writing, Rachel asked why none of it made any sense. “Information written in self-designed code, impossible to decipher without it.” he said.

“If someone were to take the keycard and access the system, they wouldn’t be able to read any of the information on the files...that means that…”

“If they want information, they come in and get the code.” Hilbert said. Kepler had finished inputting all of Dr. Morgan’s data and scanned over the results, he looked up at Rachel and Hilbert who were still pulling out files and going over them.

“In the past twelve hours,” he began, instantly gaining their attention, “Dr. Morgan’s keycard was used to gain entry into the medical facility at 8:54 AM from the West entrance and checked out there at 9:23 AM.” the room was silent for a moment.

“Cutter went down to see you at nine.” Rachel said as she was mapping out that day’s timeline in her mind. “Victor got to Lavinia’s apartment a little before ten, she was still alive...and a man died...at some point.” her eyes were focused upwards, trying to search her mind for a connection between the times and occurrences. Hilbert commented that Lavinia almost definitely killed the man.

“There had to be at least three people: one to die, one to take the keycard and go to Goddard, and another to stay in the apartment with Lavinia and kill her.” Kepler added.

“The person who broke in here could’ve had the time to get from here to Lavinia’s apartment, kill her...but what about the busy signal, when did that start?” she asked herself, then added to the two men in the room “But why didn’t they do something with the other body?”

“Waste of time. Why spend time and effort to clean up a body when we know who did it?” Hilbert said. No one disagreed, even though Kepler wanted to. Rachel turned to Kepler.

“Call Cutter.” she said with reserved everity.

“I need your phone.” he said, realizing he had left his back in the other room. Rachel picked up her phone off the filing cabinet and tossed it to Kepler. He dialed it and waited for a response, he noticed that Rachel was still focused on her task but had tensed up even more, Hilbert still seemed unfazed.

“Rachel, I trust you have something to report.” Cutter said expectantly.

“It’s Warren, sir, and yes, we do.” Kepler responded and continued to fill Cutter in on the action that took place on her card, the fact that someone tried to access her files in the medical database, and their potential theory about what happened at Dr. Morgan’s apartment. Cutter thanked him for the update and asked to speak to Rachel.

Kepler handed the phone to her and after a few moments of her listening to Cutter ask her something that no one else in the room could hear, she replied with, “there are no names missing in either the database or physical files.” Rachel said and looked relieved after whatever Cutter said in response. She placed her phone back down on the filing cabinet once the call ended and breathed out calmly. It took about ten more minutes for them to reach the last file, they were all crowded around the computer as Hilbert pulled up the folder and compared the documents in the physical folder to the digital ones. He closed it and leaned back in his chair.

“All clear.” he said. Rachel pulled her phone out, called Cutter and put it on speaker.

“Mr. Cutter, you’re on speaker with the three of us, there are no files missing from the cabinet or database.” she reported.

“Oh, Rachel. That is wonderful news.” he breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you very much for this, and for checking the use of the keycard, I’ve dispatched a few people to investigate. Next Friday is Independence Day, why don’t the three of you take the Monday off and make it a four-day weekend?” he said.

“Thank you for this, sir.” she responded, the adrenaline from their finished projecting still soaring through all their veins.

“Goodbye, Warren, Alexander. I’ll see you when I get back, Rachel.” he said, it was the most relaxed she had heard him sound in days.

“Goodbye, sir.” she said and the call ended. They all looked up at each other as the tension palpably drained out of the room. Rachel laughed exerbuatnely after those moments of complete serenity. She and Hilbert jumped up and hugged each other, then shook hands.

“Good working with you, doctor,” Rachel smiled.

“Likewise.” he responded. Kepler shook both of their hands reluctantly and left the office to return the laptop and gather the last of his belongings from the other room so that he could return to work for the short amount of time that he would have that day, not that their whole ordeal was not actually work.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rachel Young and Alexander Hilbert left the office together after Warren left, to make sure that everything was logged off properly and put away correctly.

“Am glad Kepler did not see his file.” Hilbert said, referring to the in-progress file in the database marked, ‘Kepler, Warren James.’

“I noticed that. What was in it?” Rachel asked.

“Recent medical information she got while Kepler was here...it was her job to keep medical records of people she treated, not that he’d be able to read it.” he responded.

“I take it that Cutter knows all about this.” she said.

** “Mr. Cutter  _ assigned _ her this job.” Hilbert emphasized. The two parted ways at the start of the hallway and Rachel walked back to the elevators.  _ Four day weekend, I’ll drink to you, Lavinia _ .   
**


	10. These Mortal Beings

Kepler settled into his office chair and breathed a heavy sigh of relief,  _ back to work _ , he realized that he had never gotten Hilbert to sign the work release, but it probably wouldn’t matter... _ Cutter’s happy, so he would probably be okay with it _ . There was still a nervous feeling that rested in the back of his mind and he rubbed the back of his neck as he thought of all the questions that he would never get answers to. The nervousness was becoming bitter,  _ Hilbert knows and Cutter knows, but I don’t and probably never will...one step at a time, just. do. your. job. and. go. home. _

He decided that it would be best to start with the emails and opened up the desktop email icon to see that someone had added a generic ‘out of office’ autoreply starting the day he first went to see Dr. Morgan. The most recent email was from Victor, the same one Rachel received about Dr. Morgan’s death that she read out to them earlier that day. He entered in his keycard number to get access to the file, it had almost everything that they had already heard from Rachel. Kepler disabled the autoreply and began to respond to the emails then sorted them into their respective folders. He had been doing this, as well as downloading other files linked in the emails, with a steady pace for about thirty minutes when he heard a knock on his office door. Maxwell was standing outside and he walked over and opened the door for her, she walked past him and leaned on the corner of this desk.

“I heard about what happened to Dr. Morgan, I was just on my way to see you, but low and behold, here you are.” she said.

“Here...I...am. No Jacobi?” he asked, it was fairly uncommon to see the two separated from each other, especially if Maxwell was planning on visiting Kepler.

“Went home early--wasn’t feeling well.” she explained.

“Shame...You’ve spent...a lot of time...around him.” Maxwell understood what he was trying to insinuate and smiled at him.

“I have a surprisingly strong immune system. Besides, I kept a little distance after he spent all that time working with the engineering department.” she said and Kepler nodded in response. “What do you say we get dinner when we leave?--I’m paying.”

They spent a few minutes discussing where they wanted to eat, taking into account the time of day and amount of traffic they would run into. A woman with a ‘GF Medical Dept.’ insignia on the sleeve of her coat stuck her head in the door.

“Excuse me, Major Kepler? I have a signed work-release form from Dr. Hilbert.” she said and pulled out a piece of paper that she handed over to Kepler. He thanked her and she went on her way back down the hall.

“Wow, she looked rough.” Maxwell said softly after she was sure the woman was out of earshot. Kepler had noticed it as well, the straining in her voice, the red splotches on her face from crying. Both of them knew that losing someone you worked with for a long time was hard, Kepler more so than Maxwell.

“How did you find out about Dr. Morgan?” Kepler asked, Maxwell shrugged noncommittally.

“Word got around pretty fast. Must’ve been whatever she was working on.” Maxwell said. She shifted like she thought she was wearing out her welcome but did not want to leave.

“You can stay, Maxwell, if you don’t mind me checking emails and looking at excel sheets.” he told her. Maxwell had her work-tablet with her and she did her own work while the two of them had intermittent chats about whatever seemed relevant, and this went on for nearly an hour before the two found themselves walking through Goddard Futuristics parking garage towards Maxwell’s car. Kepler noticed a troubled look on Maxwell’s face.

“Something...wrong...Alana?” he asked.

“I--it’s just…” she sighed, “I keep thinking about Dr. Morgan...Jesus, murdered in her own home.” she added, almost to herself, then looked back at Kepler. “What do you think Cutter’s going to do about it?” she asked.

“It’ll be investigated and Cutter will respond accordingly with whatever he finds. But...before...he does anything...he’s going to replace her. It’s a shame that she died...but there are other Dr. Morgans in the world and it won’t be...hard for him to...find another.” he said and Maxwell nodded solemnly. Kepler put his hand on her shoulder to reassure her of something that she probably already knew. This was rather uncommon behavior for him, but Maxwell did not mind and stepped closer to him, taking in the unconventional warmth of his companionship.


End file.
